


Blue Moon Delight

by MagicaDraconia16



Series: Blue Moon [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Humor, Wolves, playfulness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 22:43:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11473182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaDraconia16/pseuds/MagicaDraconia16
Summary: The third night of the wizarding blue moon





	Blue Moon Delight

When he opened his eyes, it was to the sight of the other sitting just a few feet away from him, tail curled neatly around his black forepaws, gaze intent and ears pricked.

He blinked sleepily for a moment, then opened his jaws in a large yawn, his tongue curling, and stretched his forelegs outwards. The other gave an eager _chuff_ , which turned into an exasperated huff as he curled himself up again, burying his muzzle in his tail.

He didn’t manage to fall asleep, however, as within minutes, something smacked him on the top of his head. Yelping, he jerked away from it, his front paws spread out as though to anchor him to the ground, shaking his head.

In front of him was a small branch.

Suspicious, he looked over at the other, who didn’t appear to have moved, and just pricked his ears even more in curiosity. Narrowing his eyes at the other, he turned to grip the branch with his teeth, moved it beside himself and curled up over it, a small growl rumbling through his chest.

Several minutes passed, and he was just dozing off when something else hit him on the head. This time, it felt wet and runny. Jerking his head up again, he shook it, and felt a trail of something running down the side of his head towards his muzzle. Carefully flicking his tongue out at it, he worked his jaw over the taste, before finally allowing the residue to drip from his tongue to the ground.

He glanced at the other again, who tilted his head at him. This time, however, although the other still didn’t appear to have moved, there was a spot of white on the underside of his muzzle that hadn’t been there before.

Realising that he’d been found out, the other let his jaw drop open, his tongue curling up in canine amusement. Mock-growling, he tensed his muscles and launched himself from the ground, aiming to shoulder-rush the other.

The other gave a playful _yip_ , and whirled up and away, deliberately waiting until he was close enough that the other’s tail smacked against his muzzle.

With a short, joyful howl, he plunged forward after the other.

They wove in and out of the trees, occasionally darting into the thick undergrowth to pounce out at the other one, chasing and be chased in turns, until finally the other caught him, bowling him over with a sideways rush.

Yelping in surprised glee, he waved his paws in the air as he rolled over, shaking his head dizzily once he’d come to a stop. The other was crouched in a deep play bow, his tail waving gleefully in the air, and his jaws open.

Something rustled in the bush nearby, and both sets of ears pricked towards it. The other gave a deep snuffle, and straightened out of his bow. He immediately tensed, all playfulness forgotten – he still remembered the horror and unnatural _wrongness_ of the strange creature from the night before – but as the other didn’t go on alert, he gradually relaxed.

It was something they could hunt, not something that was hunting them.

The other glanced back at him, his eyes glinting, and then lowered himself to a crouch as he stared back at the shrubbery. Keeping himself low and as quiet as he could – he still remembered his attempt to ‘help’ hunt the thestral foal, too – he crawled his way over to the other’s flank, nudging it once with his muzzle to let the other know he was there.

The other beat his tail once, whipping it over his shoulders, and he knew he should stay put. The other advanced towards the bush, achingly slowly, one paw advancing at a time, testing the ground before it fully settled. He watched as the other’s ears twitched, and the whiskers on the other’s muzzle bristled. Then the other tensed, and sprang.

Something that looked like a rabbit, but with a much longer, streamlined body, raced away from the other side of the bush. It had a very strange call, he thought as he and the other chased after it. It was very loud, and rose and fell in strange patterns. The scolding tone, though – that he could recognise.

They ended up close to a small-ish wooden structure – _Hagrid’s hut_ , his hindbrain prompted – and there they lost their prey. Surprisingly, the other didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he sat on his haunches, lifted his muzzle to the sky, and howled out the joy of the chase.

Delighted, he sent up his own song in praise of how _wonderful_ the night was turning out to be. Their voices rose and fell, dipped and soared, entwining around each other and announcing to the night that they were here, they were **_pack_**.

And then, with a playful nip to his tail, the other was bounding away again, and he was running after, pleased yips and growls echoing as they played under the light of the two full moons.

It was good to be a wolf.


End file.
